


“Kiddo?”

by intheobyss



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Depressed Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Really Character Death, Possible Character Death, References to Depression, Suicidal Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheobyss/pseuds/intheobyss
Summary: In which I project onto Virgil (tbh it could’ve been anyone but it wearing his necklace so) about stuff(don’t worry i haven’t tried anything i’m fine rjewkojowqlnfelanwpqqlennf)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 153





	“Kiddo?”

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! this could contain some triggers so i’m going to list them here. stay safe!
> 
> [TW: possible/implied death, suicide, suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, pills, taking pills]
> 
> if there’s anything else tell me i don’t want to accidentally trigger anyone
> 
> also this is mostly unedited so i apologize for errors.

Tired. That’s all he was. Every day was the same monotonous battle; he woke up, went into his bathroom, doing the usual things when one wakes up and, if the occasion demanded, throwing on some dry shampoo. After that, he threw some perfume on his sleep shirt, throwing on his hoodie and changing his jeans. His limbs were like weights, his feet dragging across the floor as if magnetized to them. Far too tired to put on all his makeup, he just dusted a layer of eyeshadow on. 

He sunk out of his room, appearing on Thomas’ couch. Thomas and Roman were there, probably talking about new video ideas or something, he didn’t feel like listening. He distantly registered the clock’s hands moving from 9am to 1pm, scrolling through tumblr, not consuming any content, only making it look like he was. In reality, his mind was a war zone. There was a niggling voice in his head. It fed him the usual lines, nothing too new. Except there was a different one this time. And it had a steep impact. _**“Ya know.. you can loaf around uselessly on a couch for five hours and nobody even cares enough to notice.. It’s time to finish that note and pop some pills.”**_ This one... while not necessarily unlike all the others this little voice supplied him, but… this time was… different, somehow. It did something to him. It resounded in his head. _It’s time, I’ve waited long enough. It’s not like they’d care about me if I left,_ he thought. 

He sunk down to his room, appearing by his bedside table. His decision somehow gave him a little burst of energy, enough to bend down and grab the little bottle of pills that were hidden under the table. He opened the bottle of pills, struggling with the child lock for a moment. _I don’t even get why this would be on it. Who would have the guts— no, mental status to put this within reach of innocent kids._ He took out the folded slip of note paper and opened it, re-reading what he had written just to make sure what bases he had to cover. He scribbled more in his underdeveloped print and appraised the note. It read:  
“Hey guys. Sorry about this. I just don’t want to do this anymore. You guys are so awesome, and I’m just… me. Some days I just feel empty, like nothing I do will ever have an impact. But most days, I’m tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of hurting others, of hurting Thomas, of hurting you. This is a pathetic way to apologize and make up for everything I’ve messed up. Remember that one time in fourth grade when Thomas wanted a big part in the 4th grade play but I made him circle “A few lines” on that paper and he only got one, ‘Look at my fruit, it’s all dried up!’ That one. And then he went off stage for the rest of it. Anyways, I’ve done a lot of stupid things and I’m sorry. I know you guys won’t care, but I at least owe you an explanation, right? So yeah. Sorry about ruining Thomas’ life. I’ll get out of your hair now.  
\- yours truly, virgil sanders”

It was as good as it was gonna get. He took a deep breath in and dumped the pills into his hand. There were six, but he didn’t need all of them, right? He’d just be wasting stuff. Like always. He didn’t want his last action to be greedy. Three would be enough. He dropped the extra three back in the bottle, trying to close the lid for a moment. After about a minute of struggling and not being able to figure it out, he just gave up and put them on his night table. He went to his bathroom and grabbed a little paper cup, filled it with water and sat on his bed. He looked at the pills in one hand and his drink in the other. _Might as well do it now. As Roman likes to say, ‘there’s no time like the present.’_ He popped the pills in his mouth, took a drink of water, swishing the pills around his mouth for a moment before swallowing. 

After he swallowed, he set the now empty cup down on his bedside table, checked that the note was by the pill cup, then curled up on his bed, waiting to die.  
He didn’t know how long he waited, except that just as he could feel his breath slipping away and his vision was dimming, there were a few knocks on his door. 

Right as his vision was blacking out, the last thing he heard was a faint “Kiddo?” before everything went dark.


End file.
